


Possession

by The Fairy Queen (Angeleyes)



Category: Emergency!
Genre: Angst, April Showers 2015, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Physical Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-07
Updated: 2015-04-07
Packaged: 2018-03-21 08:28:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3685281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Angeleyes/pseuds/The%20Fairy%20Queen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Johnny rescues a psychotic woman who becomes dangerously fixated on him, who will ultimately pay the price of her obsession?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Possession

**Author's Note:**

> This work is a slightly reworked version of a story written in 2000.

A sleeping Roy DeSoto rolled over in his bunk and muttered something that might have been a long suffering, "Not now, Johnny." Across the aisle, his partner and lover slept in his usual position, flat on his back with his left arm flung over his dark head, mouth open, snoring softly. Station 51 was wrapped in the heavy cottony stillness of the late spring LA darkness, another perfect night in a city of perfect nights.

Barracks lights flashed on and sleeping reveries were broken as six exhausted men rolled from their bunks and into turnout gear as the tones echoed through the building.

"Station 51, motor vehicle accident with injuries, 10,000 block of Wilshire Boulevard, ten thousand block of Wilshire Boulevard, cross street Westwood, time out 0249."

The squad and engine rolled up to the address given to find a huge late model Ford station wagon perched precariously atop a small red car. The little car was so obscured by the larger vehicle that the firefighters couldn't tell the make or model.

Johnny and Roy spilled out of the squad, working together in silence born of long practiced skill. They gathered their equipment from the squad's compartments and sprinted over to the devastated vehicles. Captain Stanley looked around and quickly took stock of the situation. Gasoline was leaking from at least one of the automobiles and pooling underneath the tangled mass of twisted steel.

"Chet, start hosing down that asphalt." Cap Stanley used his handy-talky to call the dispatch. "LA County Dispatch, order a foam truck to this location. We have a gasoline spill with attendant risk of fire and explosion."

Roy dropped to his knees next to the tiny red sports car and peered inside. Despite his long years on the job, the bile rose in his throat at the site that greeted him. Johnny started to kneel beside him, but Roy stopped him with a gesture. "Don't. Don't even look, Johnny."

Without further comment the two turned their attention to the occupant of the station wagon. Roy stood on tiptoe and peered through the driver's side window. He could see a young woman, slumped over unconscious in her seat, held mostly upright by her seatbelt.

Roy tried the driver's door, but it refused to open. John jogged around to the passenger side, and was relieved when that door opened easily. He crawled inside and checked the driver's carotid pulse. "Roy, she's alive," he shouted.

Once Johnny ascertained that the woman could be safely moved, he and Roy carried her from the car and lay her gently on the ground, far from the spilled gasoline.

"Rampart, this is Squad 51, how do you read?"

"We read you loud and clear, 51, go ahead."

"Rampart, we have two victims of a vehicular accident, one expired at the scene. The other is female, approximate age 23. Her injuries seem minor, although she has a small bump on her forehead. She also has some bruises and abrasions, but she exhibits no signs of serious head or back injury. She was unconscious when we arrived but is conscious and oriented at this time." Roy tucked the receiver under his chin. "You got those vitals, John?"

Johnny nodded. "BP's 130 over 70, pulse 100 and respiration's 30. Pupils equal and reactive."

Roy repeated the vitals into the biophone, and Kel Brackett's sonorous voice came booming through the receiver in response. "51, is the ambulance on the scene?"

"That's affirmative, Rampart."

"Good. Put her on a backboard and start an IV, D5W TKO. Monitor her vitals closely and transport as soon as possible."

Johnny helped the ambulance attendants load the woman into the back of the transport. Roy tapped him on the shoulder. "I've got your helmet. I'll bring the squad in and meet you at the hospital."

Johnny nodded and climbed inside the ambulance to sit at the young woman's side. She was now fully conscious and a bit hysterical. "What happened?" she sobbed. "I was just driving and I saw that little car. . . he pulled out right in front of me! I tried to stop, but I couldn't! I know I hit him . . . am I hurt? Where are we going?"

Johnny tried to soothe her. "You're going to be fine. You've got some bumps and bruises, that's all. We're transporting you to the hospital as a precaution, but you're going to be just fine, okay? Try to calm down, now."

The woman nodded, and while she continued to sob, she did seem to calm down a bit. When she reached for Johnny's hand, he took it without hesitation. Comforting victims was just part of his job.

********************

As expected, the doctors at Rampart examined Lana Williams and pronounced her fit but for minor injuries. Her seatbelt and the immense vehicle she was driving had protected her. The same could not be said for George Mullins, the driver of the sports car. He was DOA, with a blood alcohol level of .19.

The police were already convinced that the accident had been wholly his fault. Lana was free to go.

The weary crew of Station 51 returned to their bunks to try for a bit more sleep before the start of another hectic day. A few hours later they were having coffee and discussing the ladder drill the captain had planned for later in the morning when the buzzer sounded, alerting them to a visitor. "I'll see who it is," Mike said, and trotted off.

The conversation continued until Mike returned trailed by a young woman. It took a heartbeat or two, but then the men placed her as the victim from the previous night's accident. They all rose and put on friendly faces. Visits from victims weren't the norm, but they weren't unheard of, either.

The woman made a beeline for Johnny, ignoring the others, seemingly oblivious to their presence. She was a pretty woman, tall and somewhat voluptuous, with glossy brunette hair and deep brown eyes. In another time Johnny would have been stupefied with delight to have such a beautiful woman come to see him, but now all he could muster was a polite interest in what the young woman had to say. She stopped right in front of Johnny, so close that he involuntarily took a small step back, feeling his personal space invaded. "I had to see you," she blurted out. "I wanted to thank you for everything you did for me. I would have died if it hadn't been for you."

Johnny was taken aback by the fervor in her voice. Her dark eyes glittered, and she stared into his face, her gaze roaming hungrily from his smooth brow down to the opened collar of his uniform shirt. She licked her lips, and Johnny had a flash of himself lying on a platter, about to be served up to this strange woman.

He cleared his throat. "Actually, uh, miss . . ."

"Lana Williams. Just call me Lana."

"Right, Lana, I remember. Actually Lana we didn't really do that much. You were fortunate. I wish more people would wear their seatbelts."

"Oh, no, you're being too modest. You were wonderful to me during the entire ordeal. I don't know what I would have done if you hadn't been there."

Johnny squirmed unhappily. The woman's eyes were now locked with his and her relentless, unblinking stare was disconcerting in the extreme. She seemed to have forgotten that there had been anyone on the scene the night before but him.

He sneaked a look at Roy, but Roy just looked back, an expression of bland nonchalance on his face. Then he winked and smiled slyly, and John sighed inwardly. Looked like he was on his own with this one.

As Lana nattered on about Johnny's heroics, his discomfort grew and he began to feel a strange warning flutter in his stomach, almost a queasy lurch. There was something not right about this woman. If pressed on the point he could never had pinpointed what made the warning bells go off in his head as loudly as the klaxon tones he heard in the station every shift, but there it was. Johnny was relieved when Lana refused Cap's offer of coffee and took her leave. As he watched her drive away he couldn't help hoping that this would be the last he would ever hear of her, but some deep intuition told him his wish would be unfulfilled.

********************

"Gage, delivery for you!" Johnny groaned inwardly. Please, God, not Lana again, although he knew it could be nothing else.

In the two weeks since the accident, Lana Williams had become a very unwelcome addition to Johnny's hectic life. She called him every day, usually several times a day. If he was working, she called the station, and on his days off, she called the apartment he shared with Roy. She never again showed up in person as she had the day after the accident, but Johnny often felt the small hairs on the back of his neck rise and would turn, half expecting her to be standing there behind him with those odd dark eyes locked on him. He couldn't be sure how she always knew where he was, but he suspected she was following him. At first Roy was amused by his predicament, but even Johnny's even-tempered partner in life and on the job had quickly become disturbed by the woman's constant intrusions on their lives.

Not a single day went by that something or another from Lana wasn't delivered either to the station or to the apartment. The slowly escalating lavishness of the gifts was particularly galling. Johnny felt as though she were trying to buy him. The first things to arrive had been little more than trinkets. Small stuffed animals with cute button faces, or bouquets of daisies or violets.

Lately, however, the gifts had become much more extravagant. He wasn't pleased by the gifts; they made him feel suffocated.

He had tried more than once during their various phone conversations to learn her address so that he could return the gifts, but she declined to tell him, and refused to even consider him giving back her love tokens. So Johnny had simply given the flowers to Cap and Mike for their wives, and given the toys to the children at Rampart. He told Lana he was doing this, in hopes that she would stop, but she only laughed and called him silly. The more expensive things he kept in a locked box in Cap's office until he could figure out a way to return them.

He and Roy had talked about the situation in bed the night before.

They had just made love, and lay hip to hip on the waterbed, fingers loosely twined together, sweat drying slowly on cooling skin.

"I'm freaked out, Roy. I feel like I'm being ... stalked. You know, like a hunter stalks a deer. I can feel her watching me all the time, but I never see her." He pushed heavy dark hair away from his forehead. "Hell, I don't know. Maybe I'm just paranoid. I'm probably overreacting."

He looked hopefully at Roy, who squeezed his hand comfortingly. "I'm not sure what to say, Babe. I've never heard of a situation quite like this one before."

"Man, I hate like hell to admit it, but I'm starting to feel more than concerned about this chick. You know, I've been kinda weirded out from the beginning, but now I have to tell you, I'm getting a little scared." He laughed shakily. "Not too great for the old ego, being scared of a woman."

"I don't know about that, Johnny. What you said about overreacting," Roy hesitated. "I think maybe in the beginning I might have agreed with you, but now I think you're right to be wary." At Johnny's sharp look, Roy continued.

"I don't think that I'd be afraid of just the average woman myself, but I don't think there's anything average about this woman. She's just so . . . strange. I mean, normal people don't act like this, now do they? Calling someone, and even more sending him expensive gifts, after you've been told there's no interest. . . it just goes way beyond the peculiar."

"There ought to be a law against it, man," Johnny burst out. "It's not right that she can be allowed to harass me. But what am I gonna do? Go to the cops and say, 'Hey, guys, help me out here, this beautiful woman won't leave me alone'" He snorted. "They'd love that, wouldn't they?"

Roy rolled over onto his side and pulled Johnny close to him. "Well, Pally, I guess whatever happens, happens. I'm sure she'll get tired of chasing you eventually and start obsessing over someone else." He paused. "That sounded awful, didn't it? To hope that she gets attached to some other poor guy so that she'll leave you alone." He sighed. "You're right, Johnnyboy. There oughta be a law. But until there is, I guess we'll just have to handle whatever comes on our own."

Johnny shook off the memory of the previous night's conversation and walked into the kitchen, following the direction of Marco's shouted message. Sure enough, there was another gift. It sat on the dining table, as innocuous in appearance as a cherry atop an ice cream sundae. Four men looked from the gift to its recipient with undisguised curiosity and expectation in their faces. Roy just looked concerned, and bit his lip nervously as he waited for Johnny to open the present.

This time it was a small box wrapped up in paper obviously meant for a child's birthday. It was printed with Dalmatian dogs riding firetrucks, tongues lolling out and ears streaming behind, frozen forever in motion by an invisible breeze.

Johnny opened the box and couldn't stifle the gasp that rose in him at the sight. It was a watch, but not a cheap timepiece from the corner drugstore. No, this time Lana had gifted him with a Rolex. He closed the box with a snap and looked up angrily, daring one of the other guys to say a word. The look in his eyes convinced them all, even Chet, that it would be wise to remain silent.

'This has GOT to stop,' he thought, and strode angrily from the room, towards the Captain's office to put the watch away. For the first time Johnny actually hoped that Lana would call soon. He thought it was about time he and Ms. Lana Williams had a little heart to heart chat.

********************

"Gage, phone for you."

Johnny dropped the mop he was wielding and almost ran to the phone.

"Hello?"

"Hello Johnny. Did you like the watch?"

"Hello, Lana." At the sound of the familiar name everyone in the station stopped what he was doing to listen. Roy was the only one of the other guys who was truly troubled by the situation. The other guys thought the whole thing was far more entertaining than the soap operas Johnny had gotten hooked on after being hit by that car.

"Listen, Lana, about that watch. . ." Johnny cleared his throat, took a deep breath, and plowed ahead. "I'm sorry to have to be so blunt with you. I can't keep the watch, or any of the other gifts you've given me. I'm involved with someone else, and I'm afraid they wouldn't understand me taking gifts from you."

Around the kitchen, the other guys looked at each other in surprise. Gage, involved with someone? Since when? None of them noticed Roy studying his hands as if his cuticles were suddenly the most interesting things in the world.

"So, please, give me your address so I can mail these things back to you."

Johnny almost added that she could stop by the station and pick them up if she preferred, but caught himself just in time. The last thing he wanted was to see her again.

There was only silence from Lana, so he continued.

"Um, if you won't give me your address, then I'm afraid I'll have to give the gifts to charity. Firefighters aren't allowed to accept gratuities." Johnny heard Lana gasp at that, and he felt guilty for being so brusque, but it couldn't be helped. Somehow, he had to get through to this woman.

"No, Johnny, it's okay. I'd rather not give you my address. I, um, I understand. I don't want the gifts back. Why don't you sell the watch and buy something pretty for your girlfriend? I'm sure she'd love that. Listen, I have to go. Take care, okay?" And he was listening to a dial tone.

********************

The next day was Johnny and Roy's last shift for three days. They planned to leave for the mountains right after the shift ended, so Johnny's truck was loaded with camping supplies. He and Roy returned from a run to find the other guys waiting for them in the apparatus bay, grim looks on all their faces. Roy killed the squad's engine and they both jumped out. "What is it?" Roy asked anxiously. "My kids?"

"No, no, nothing like that, Roy," Cap. Stanley said. "It's just that . . . well, we just got back from a run ourselves, a brush fire in the canyon." Stanley sighed heavily. "Johnny, someone broke into your truck while we were gone."

"What?!" Johnny raced outside and stopped dead when he saw his vehicle. The driver's side window had been smashed in, and glass was everywhere. Anger and disbelief twisted his gut into a knot. He approached the truck slowly. The camping gear in the bed of the pickup looked undisturbed, but the cab of the truck was a different matter. Someone had gone through the glove box, and papers and other assorted miscellany were scattered everywhere. Johnny opened the door and began to sort through the detritus, doing a quick mental inventory.

"John, is anything important missing?" Marco asked.

"No, not really. It's weird, the only things I can really say are missing are my sunglasses and some cassette tapes I had." Johnny looked up and made eye contact with Roy. "I know who did this."

"I think we all know, John," Cap said. "I'm sorry I didn't take this more seriously. We got back right before you and Roy did, I didn't have time to call the police. I'll do that now."

"No."

Captain Stanley stopped. "What? But why?"

"There's nothing the police can do, Cap. I mean, a vehicle burglary with nothing of value taken is not exactly going to be at the top of their list of priorities. Besides, if they investigate this, I'll have to tell them about Lana." Johnny pulled a face. "I really don't think I'm ready to do that. It's sort of embarrassing, you know?"

Cap was silent for a long moment. "Whatever you think best, John. Come on, guys, it's time for lunch. Chet, what are we having?"

As the other men moved away Roy joined Johnny next to the truck. "Johnny, are you sure about this?"

"Hell no. I'm not sure about anything any more. Do you think I should have called the police?"

"I don't know. Maybe you're right. I can't believe they'd attach too much importance to something like this. But the fact remains, something has to be done about this woman." Roy hesitated, thinking. "Maybe we could hire a private investigator to find out where she lives and go pay her a visit. Maybe if she knows you know where she lives, it will frighten her enough to make her stop." Roy grimaced. "This stinks. I never in my wildest dreams thought I'd be plotting to deliberately frighten a woman."

"Not only that, you've been watching too much Mannix, man. Where do you think you and I would find the money for a private eye?"

"One of Joanne's friends' husband works for an agency. We were never really close friends or anything, but I don't think he approved of the way she behaved while we were married. I think he'd find a way to give us a discount."

Johnny thought about it. "Okay. But not yet. Let's wait and see what happens. Maybe this will be the end of it."

Roy nodded, but he didn't for a moment think that this was the end of their experiences with Lana. Not by a long shot.

********************

Their shift ended at eight the next morning, but instead of going to the mountains as they'd planned, Johnny and Roy went home. Neither really felt like going away, and Johnny planned to take the truck to the dealer to get the window replaced. They worked in silence to put away the camping gear. After replacing their sleeping bag in the bedroom closet, Roy turned and looked at John, who stood near the bed watching him. The silence stretched until finally Johnny sighed and looked away. "I guess I'll head down to the dealer's."

"Do you have to leave right now?"

Johnny grinned widely, grateful for the question and what it implied, and for the good mood that washed over him at hearing it. "What did you have in mind?"

"A break. A nice chunk of time spent together with no sirens, no alarms, no sick or hurt people, no fires, no . . . no nothing. Just you and me."

Johnny wiggled his eyebrows lasciviously. "Why Roy, I never knew you to be so naughty. Suggesting lewd activities at nine o'clock of a Wednesday morning."

Roy laughed. "You are a nut."

"Maybe, but I'm your nut. The left one, to be exact."

Roy lost it then, and they both laughed until tears leaked from their eyes.

Finally Roy had to stop, his side ached. He realized that their silliness was a release, and it sobered him to realize just how much stress they'd both been under for the last couple of weeks. He closed the distance between them and put his hand to John's cheek. Johnny closed his eyes and leaned into the touch, and Roy ran his long fingers over Johnny's high cheekbones, brushing the impossibly long, dark lashes, caressing the planes of John's narrow face. He moved lower to stroke Johnny's long neck, relishing the feel of the warm velvet skin beneath his fingers and the steady pulse that beat at Johnny's throat.

They moved together and Roy cupped Johnny's face in both his hands, pulling him forward until their lips met. He slid his hands up and tangled them in John's unruly mass of hair. Roy brushed his lips gently across Johnny's, barely making contact, teasing them both. Johnny wrapped both arms around Roy and pulled hard, and Roy had a sense of flying that lasted just an instant before they both landed in the waterbed, Roy unable to break his fall because his hands were still caught in John's hair, landing heavily on top of Johnny, who uttered a soft "oof" as the air was knocked from his lungs. "Have you thought of going on a diet, Junior?" he asked, panting, once he'd gotten his wind back.

Roy pushed himself up and grinned down into John's face. "I didn't ask to go airborne, now did I?"

"I guess not," Johnny said grudgingly. "I just thought we'd be a bit more comfortable here."

"I'm comfortable wherever you are, Pally," Roy said, and bent once more to claim his lover's mouth.

Both realized quickly that this was not to be a long, drawn out, romantic rendezvous. That wasn't what either of them needed at this moment. They needed the immediacy of the closest possible contact, made as quickly as possible. Clothes were discarded piecemeal, accompanied by muttered endearments, soft curses as a particular recalcitrant item refused to be undone, and the occasional moan of pleasure.

Roy knelt between Johnny's thighs and used the intensity of his passion and his considerable upper body strength to grab Johnny's hips and haul him forward and up, balancing him on his thighs.

Johnny hissed at the sudden sensation of being filled, as he felt the slick coolness of Roy's lube covered fingers slide between his cheeks and into him. He pulled his long legs back and up, using his arms to hold them against his chest, knowing he probably looked ridiculous and not caring. Then there was pressure, and a brief moment of burning pain, and he truly was filled.

John let go of his legs and wrapped them around Roy's waist, holding on, looking up into a beloved face creased with concentration. He kept his eyes open, watching as long as he could, wanting to see every expression that crossed the features he loved so well, that were as familiar to him as his own. Sweat beaded on Roy's brow and fell, droplets landing on Johnny's face and feeling as refreshing as spring rain. His Roy fucking him, the pleasure so intense John thought he would lose his mind, listening to Roy saying his name in a wondrous, reverent tone usually reserved for prayers, moaning continuously, thrusting hard now, their bodies coming together with a solid satisfying smacking sound. Johnny could feel Roy's balls slapping against his ass and he thought he might come just from this, neither of them had touched his cock yet and then Roy was, stroking him in time with his thrusts and Johnny realized Roy was looking down at him, and he was gazing up into a flushed face dominated by huge, intense blue eyes that bore right through him, burning their way into his soul.

And then he was coming, shouting as he felt his seed falling to land on his chest in big soft plops, and Roy was coming right behind him, no shouts, just pulsing heat and rhythmic groans and strong hard hands gripping Johnny's hips, bruising the tender flesh.

Then Roy collapsed on top of him, and he was conscious of the sweat and the semen bonding them together, the pleasant ache in his abused leg muscles and in his ass, feather soft kisses landing on his neck and cheek, strong and loving arms tight around him.

Neither of them heard or saw anything as outside a disturbed and angry woman turned from her post at the bedroom window and stumbled away towards her car, dark thoughts churning in her head.

********************

"I'll be back as soon as I can. Maybe we can go to a movie tonight?" Johnny finished tying the laces on his boot and stood.

"Sure, Pally," Roy said, and stifled a yawn. "I'll think I'll just take a nap and wait for you."

"Yeah, your nap can wait. We need groceries. Have you looked in the refrigerator lately? There's no food in there, man."

Roy grinned. "You mean there's no junk food in there."

"Baby, you knoooow what I like." He leaned over and gave Roy a kiss. "I'll see you."

Roy lay on the bed for a while after John left, dozing lightly, wishing he could just stay there and sleep until his lover returned. But he knew Johnny would adopt that hurt puppy expression that seemed to come as easily to him as breathing if he came home to find that Roy hadn't done as he'd asked. With a sigh, Roy finally roused himself fully, got out of bed and began to dress.

********************

Roy put the last bag of groceries into the trunk of his new Thunderbird and slammed the lid. He'd had the car only three weeks. His old Porche had finally given up the ghost, and he'd fallen in love with the big, powerful car on first sight. It was nice for a change not to have to fold, spindle, and mutilate his tall frame to fit into the tiny car.

He was thinking about Johnny's suggestion of a movie as he unlocked the car door. Maybe they could go see that new science fiction movie that had opened today. What was it called again? Oh, yeah, Star Wars. . .

He pulled open the door and was about to get in when he heard a soft voice behind him. "Hello there, Pretty Eyes." He began to turn, and felt a sharp sting on the back of his neck. A bee? He tried to move his hand up to touch the small wound, tried to focus on the face of the person staring at him, but why was everything suddenly so fuzzy? He blinked slowly, and opening his eyes again was no longer an option.

As Roy began to crumple, Lana used the momentum of his fall to shove him violently into the car. His head connected with the car's doorframe with a sickening crack, and then he fell heavily across the front seat.

Working quickly, Lana shoved Roy's legs out of the way and climbed into the driver's seat. She plucked the keys from his fingers and roared out of the parking lot, tires squealing. Several patrons of the store looked up at the sound, but none noticed anything particularly unusual about the scene. Later, none of them would even remember seeing the dark blue car or the intense looking young woman behind the wheel.

********************

Consciousness returned slowly. Roy realized he could hear before he could see, and what he heard were the nighttime sounds of the city, sirens and traffic and distant voices calling to one another. He blinked several times, and things finally swam into focus. He was in a small room, perhaps 8 by 12 feet. There were no lights on in the room, and it was swathed in semidarkness, only a bare strip of light leaking in from underneath the door. There were two windows side by side to his left, covered by tightly drawn blinds. There was no furniture in the room beyond a plain straight-backed wooden chair next to the only door.

Roy's head hurt, and his neck was stinging. He tried to raise his right hand to touch the back of his neck only to discover that he was handcuffed to something solid. Looking down, Roy saw that someone had installed a piton into the wooden floor of the room. It had been pounded securely into the floor, and an experimental tug told him that the handcuffs were not the toys sold in kinky sex shops, but the real thing, the kind issued to police and security. The cuff was fastened tightly around his wrist, biting into the sensitive skin.

Roy's disorientation was fading as he began to comprehend his predicament. Perhaps the most distressing aspect of the situation was that he found himself stripped of his watch, wallet, shoes, and all of his clothing.

Full awareness returned with a jolt at this last realization, and he began to examine the piton in the floor more closely. Perhaps it was not as secure as it seemed, and he could loosen it enough to . . .

He heard a key being inserted in the door, and his heart began to pound wildly. He had been kidnapped, obviously, but he was still alive and he wasn't sure why. The person behind the key was undoubtedly Lana, what if she had come to remedy her oversight and finish him off?

The door opened, and Lana stood silhouetted in the doorway. Roy squinted at her, partially blinded by the bright light flooding into the room behind his captor. She carried a tray, and Roy caught the unmistakable aroma of coffee as soon as she was over the threshold. She kicked the door closed behind her, and Roy was able to see again. In the watery light of the room and from his vulnerable position on the floor, she looked liked an amazon warrior.

"I brought you some coffee. How did you sleep?" she asked, and smiled faintly, as if amused at her own very pale joke.

"Just lovely, thanks," Roy replied, and Lana frowned a little, put out by the sarcasm in his tone. Then he noticed the gun on the tray next to the coffeepot, and his stomach did a crazy, queasy dance. He didn't doubt that Lana was deranged enough to kill him where he sat, and he wondered again why she had kept him alive.

Balancing the tray on one hand, she raised the gun and pointed it at his vulnerable naked belly. "Back."

Not one to argue with a woman packing heat, he obeyed. He moved back against the wall, drawing his legs up and covering himself with his free left hand. This amused Lana. It seemed anything that caused Roy pain or embarrassment would be an amusement to Lana, Roy thought with growing dread.

"Don't worry about hiding from me, Pretty Eyes. You were out for some time, you know. And who do you think undressed you in the first place? I already got a nice look." The lasciviousness of her tone sickened him, and a defiant perverseness made him respond to her taunting by letting his legs fall open.

She laughed in delight. "That's better." She set the tray down and pushed it towards him. This close Roy could see that the gun was a Smith and Wesson .44 magnum. The hammer was pulled back and Lana's finger rested lightly inside the trigger guard. The gun was ready for firing, and Lana handled the large, heavy weapon easily.

She stood up and stepped back. Keeping the gun level, she backed across the room to the chair and sat down. Only then did she lower the gun. "Drink up."

Roy poured the coffee and took a drink. It was strong and very hot. Lana watched him.

"How is it?"

"Fine."

"I made it myself, just for you."

"Thank you."

Silence. Roy took another sip, and through carefully lowered lashes watched Lana watch him.

"I guess you're wondering why you're still alive."

Startled, Roy looked up, and knew that his expression gave him away. Lana smiled widely. "You're alive because I want you alive. Don't forget that, honey. I don't want to kill you now, that wouldn't be any fun." She paused and looked around the room, as if seeing it for the first time.

"I had this room all fixed up for him, you know. But this way is even better. See, I figure he won't give up on his boyfriend easily. He'll find us eventually. And when he does, I'll kill him. And you. And myself. It'll be better that way."

Her blasé demeanor chilled Roy to the bone. He could feel the skin on the back of his neck begin to crawl, and he shivered involuntarily, not from the cold.

"The media will love it. It'll be in the papers and on TV for weeks. 'Tragic love triangle', they'll call it. The woman who came between the two fag firemen." She used the term casually, no rancor in her voice. "Won't the folks back home love that?"

Roy seized on the off hand comment. "Lana, think about this. You must have people who care about you who would be so devastated by what you're doing. So far, there's been no real harm done. I'm not hurt. You can still get out of this. Let me go, and I'll do what I can to get the cops to go easy on you. Maybe you wouldn't even get any jail time. You could go into a hospital, get some help." As soon as the words were out of his mouth Roy knew he'd made a mistake.

Lana's eyes grew huge and darkened. "You think I'm crazy, don't you? Well, I'm not. I'm just sick of people, of men, taking advantage of me all the time." She glared at Roy as if he were personally responsible for all her bad luck with men.

"I always give and give, give them everything, and what do I ever get in return? Nothing! If I'm really lucky, I end up with a few good times, a few empty promises, and then it's 'Hey, babe, it was just for fun, you know?'" Lana's voice was bitter and mocking. "I'm not the crazy one, you know, it's you! You and your boyfriend!" She leapt up from the chair and advanced on Roy, and he hated himself for shrinking back against the wall in fear at her approach. He huddled in the corner, unable to get to his feet, his hand manacled to the floor, helpless.

"I'm going to enjoy this," Lana said with satisfaction, and cracked Roy across the face with the gun. He felt a gash open up on his left cheek, felt the hot blood begin to pour down his face. She circled him like a wolf, and he could not turn in time to block the heavy blow that fell on the back of his head. The pain shot through his skull and he blinked repeatedly, desperately trying not to pass out, afraid of what she would do to him if he lost consciousness.

Somehow she was in front of him again, and just when he managed to regain control she lashed out suddenly, kicking him viciously in the groin. He couldn't make a sound, the pain was more intense than anything he'd ever felt in his life. He curled up into a fetal ball as much as the cuffed hand would allow, his left hand between his legs, desperately trying to protect himself against another onslaught. Nausea rose, but he fought it and managed to keep the coffee down. Finally he was able to look up at her, his personal demon, standing over him holding a bloody gun and breathing hard from her exertions.

"You never should have touched him, Pretty Eyes. But that's okay, you won't be touching him ever again." She kicked out at him and caught him under the jaw with her heavy, leather clad foot. As consciousness faded, he saw her smile that terrifying smile again, and incredibly, she winked at him. "You're mine now."

********************

"Roy, I'm home." Johnny wasn't surprised there was no answer, he'd noticed that Roy's car was not in the parking lot. He must still be at the supermarket.

Johnny checked his watch. He'd been gone about two hours, Roy must have decided to take that nap before leaving after all. Otherwise he'd have been home by now. Johnny got himself a beer and settled into his favorite chair to watch a little TV. The Dodgers game was just starting, and Johnny was quickly lost in it. He'd watched three full innings before he realized Roy still wasn't home.

He checked his watch again and frowned. Where could he be? He got up and began pacing around the apartment, looking for a note. He found none.

"Joanne, this is Johnny. Um, fine, and you? Good. Listen, have you seen Roy? Yeah, today. I thought maybe one of the kids. . . Huh? Oh, no, nothing's wrong. No, that's okay. So, how are the kids, then? Yeah? That's great. Okay, Joanne, I'll let you go. Thanks. Bye."

"Brice, it's Gage. How's everything at good ole 51? Oh, yeah? Wild, man. Listen, is DeSoto there? . . . Has he been there at all today? Okay. No, nothing's wrong, I just remembered something I needed to tell him. Yeah, thanks. Bye."

"Dix? Hi, it's Johnny. How's it going? Great. Listen, um, have you seen Roy today? Yeah. No, it's okay. Listen, if you do see him, could you tell him to call me? Thanks, Dix. Bye."

One by one Johnny called everyone he could think of. All Roy's friends, the other guys on A shift at Station 51, all the hospitals in the area just in case he'd had an accident, and finally, even though he hated to do it for fear of worrying her, Roy's elderly mother. Nothing.

Another hour and a half had passed while he'd been on the phone. Now thoroughly frightened, Johnny almost ran outside to his truck. He spent an hour driving around, from the apartment to the supermarket he and Roy used, and then all around their neighborhood, looking for any sign of Roy or his car. Nothing. It was like he'd vanished from the face of the earth. At six he returned home and went back to the phone.

"Los Angeles County Sheriff's Department."

"Hi, can I talk to Detective Grant? John Gage." A long pause on hold. "Larry? This is Johnny Gage. . . yeah, good to talk to you too, man. How's Danny? Great, that's terrific. Listen, Larry, I've got a big favor to ask you. Remember Roy? Yeah, that's him. Look, he's missing." John heard the desperation in his own voice, and it must have been clear to his long time friend and former lover as well, because Larry Grant became instantly businesslike.

"No, man, he's only been gone about seven hours. Larry, I know that's not a long time, but you don't under. . . Yeah, I know the law says twenty-four hours, but this isn't an ordinary case. For one thing, Roy would never be gone this long without telling me he'd be delayed if something wasn't wrong. And there's something else." Johnny sighed heavily. "There's this woman. . ."

********************

Roy woke up sprawled out on the floor. Sometime during his unconsciousness Lana had cuffed his other hand to the piton, so that he lay on his side with both arms wrenched behind him and all his weight resting on his numbed left side. It was daylight now, and he wondered how long he had been out. His bladder ached, his wounded head throbbed and his throat was parched. He felt a growing apprehension, wondering if Lana intended to give him water. He wasn't cold, but he felt vulnerable without his clothing, disoriented without his watch, and most of all, forlorn. He doubted anyone would find him before Lana grew tired of waiting for Johnny to appear and killed him. He could feel the dried blood on his face, pulling the skin and making him feel unhappily soiled.

He heard the key in the door and instantly his heart went to double-time. He maneuvered so he could watch Lana as she came into the room. She was carrying the tray, but this time Roy didn't smell coffee, or food, and his stomach contracted unhappily. He'd been there at least a day, he figured, and aside from the bit of coffee, he'd had nothing to eat or drink.

Lana knelt beside him and placed the tray on the floor. There was a bowl of water and a soft cloth on it, along with an empty pot. Without speaking, Lana dipped the cloth into the water and begin to clean the dried blood off Roy's face. He tensed, expecting her to use the opportunity to hurt him again, but this time she was deliberately gentle. Roy watched the water in the bowl turn pink with his blood, while he desperately tried to figure out a way to tell the woman he needed a bathroom, needed food, without her using his requests against him. Finally she plopped the cloth back into the bowl and rocked back on her heels.

"There you are, Pretty Eyes. Much better." She reached for the pot and put it on the floor next to him. "I guess you have to go pretty bad by now," she said matter of factly.

Roy stared at her, then cleared his aching throat. "Yeah, I do." He rattled the handcuffs against the steel piton. "Uncuff me, please."

Lana laughed long and loudly at that. "Why, so you can belt me as soon as I free you? I don't think so, honey."

Roy's faced burned with anger and embarrassment. How the hell did the bitch expect him to use the damn thing, lying on his side with his hands behind him? He started violently when he felt a cool, soft hand close around his penis.

"It's okay, honey, I'll help. I used to take care of my granddad, before the old fucker finally kicked off." Roy felt the cold metal pot against his thigh. "Go ahead, honey. You won't get another chance. It's this, or wait until your bladder gives and then lie in it. Which is it going to be?"

Roy closed his eyes against the hot tears of rage and humiliation that welled up. The hell bitch was right, what choice did he have? Finally he willed himself to let go, and sighed audibly with relief as he voided into the pot. When he finished Lana put the pot aside, but she didn't let go of his member. Instead she began to stroke it idly and Roy was further humiliated by his body's involuntary reaction to the stimulation. Lana laughed with delight. "Are you sure you're a fag, Pretty Eyes? You seem to like this just fine."

Roy didn't answer, just glared at her. He knew his hatred for her was undisguised in his eyes, but he didn't bother to try to hide it. If the bitch was going to kill him, it might as well be now. Instead, she surprised him again by leaning over and placing a tender kiss on his lips, her tongue forcing his mouth open and exploring his teeth and tongue. At the same time he felt the sting of a needle against his neck. Lana pulled back and looked down into Roy's eyes. "Sleep tight," she whispered. Roy opened his mouth, tried to tell her he needed water, not to knock him out again, to have mercy . . . and nothingness.

********************

"Larry, it's been forty-eight hours. GODDAMNIT, why can't they find him?"

"John, calm down. You know we're doing everything we can to find Roy."

Johnny sighed and dropped his head into his hands. He was sitting in Larry's office at the sheriff's department headquarters, waiting for any news of Roy. Larry had two detectives working on the case. The first thing they'd done was go to the address Lana had given Rampart the night of the accident, only to find she'd moved out only days after beginning to stalk Johnny. So far, they'd been unable to trace her. Right now they were out questioning all her old neighbors for the second time, trying to find out anything they might have missed that would help them find Lana, and Roy.

Johnny was using vacation days to stay glued to Larry's side, refusing to go back to work until Roy was found. He'd promised to keep the other guys on A shift apprised, and every few hours he called the station to let Cap and the guys know what was happening. The first day after Roy went missing John had called Joanne to keep her updated, but after Roy's ex-wife broke down in tears after the third call with no news, John refused to phone her again. Captain Stanley was keeping Joanne up to date now.

Johnny was exhausted. He'd barely slept since Roy had gone missing, and he had refused to eat until Dixie threatened to have Dr. Brackett slap an IV into him if he didn't. Roy's friends, coworkers and ex-wife now knew he was missing and it was likely he'd been kidnapped by a crazy woman with a fixation on Johnny. Johnny thought that he'd snap the very next time someone gave him a look filled with pity, or squeezed his shoulder and told him not to worry. That was easy for them to say. They weren't responsible for Roy's situation. Only Johnny could take credit for that.

In his phone call he'd told Larry about all the strange things that had happened in the last couple of weeks and had finally been able to convince him that they couldn't afford to wait the twenty-four hours prescribed by law before looking for Roy. It hadn't done much good. They still hadn't found him.

"I know you're doing every thing you can. I guess maybe it just doesn't seem like enough right now."

Larry nodded sympathetically. He wasn't offended. He knew Johnny's bitterness came from fear, and not any real anger at the police. With every hour that passed, the chances of finding Roy alive diminished, and Johnny knew it as well as Larry did.

Larry opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted by a knock on the door of his office. "Come on in!"

The door opened and Det. Waters stuck his head in. "Larry, looks like we've got a lead."

Johnny's head snapped up so quickly that he heard the ligaments in his neck creak. "What is it?" he demanded, before Larry had a chance to speak. Waters glanced at Larry, and at his go ahead nod, directed his comments to Johnny.

"We got something from one of Lana's neighbors who wasn't home yesterday when we did the first canvas. He said she's a pretty heavy drinker, and always uses the same liquor store. We checked it out, and the guy says a woman called in an order yesterday, to be delivered. She didn't identify herself, but he said he recognized her voice. Swears it was Lana Williams."

Larry and Johnny were on their feet long before Waters had finished speaking.

"You got the address?"

"Right here."

"Great." Larry snagged his jacket off the back of his chair and started for the door. "Get three units out there, NOW! Tell them silent approach all the way. I'm on my way."

"I'm going with you." Johnny raised his chin defiantly, daring Larry to stop him. He didn't even try. "Let's go, then."

********************

When Roy awoke it was dark again. He was once again on his side, his arms still wrenched behind him, cuffed to the piton. His head was pounding, and he was nearly crazed with thirst. His tongue was so swollen he feared he might choke on it, and he tried vainly to work up some saliva.

He heard the key in the lock, and looked up quickly (which he regretted, as it made his head spin crazily) to see Lana in the doorway. Apprehension overpowered his hunger and thirst for the moment. He hadn't forgotten the beating he'd gotten at her hands, or her unwelcome exploration of his body.

She moved slowly, dreamily, approaching Roy with less hesitation than she had before. She stopped just in front of him, her hands behind her back, and stared down at him thoughtfully. He was suddenly very, very frightened.

She watched him for several long moments, then said, "You're shivering, Pretty Eyes."

Roy didn't answer, but he became aware that he was trembling uncontrollably. He tried to stop and only shook more violently. Lana watched his efforts emotionlessly, then clicked her tongue. "I'm getting impatient, honey. Your boyfriend should have found you by now." She laughed suddenly. "I guess he's not a very good scout, is he? That's a surprise. Well, anyway, I guess I'm going to have to give him a little help."

Roy's heart started to triphammer. He had no idea what she intended, but he was sure he wasn't going to like it. He began to struggle, trying to free himself of the binding cuffs, feeling the blood start to run down his hands as the abused skin on his wrists finally ripped, wanting to get those bloody hands on the bitch and strangle the life out of her.

"Tsk, honey, now you stop that. You're just going to hurt yourself." Lana knelt down beside Roy and he froze when she gently laid the blade of a large kitchen knife against his cheek. "Maybe if I send your boyfriend a sign . . ." she caressed Roy's face with the knife, running the blade down his cheek, down the jaw to his throat and back up to his ear. "A little something to get his instincts going, you think? Nothing vital, of course, just a nice little extremity. Maybe an ear." She flicked the knife, and Roy winced at the burning pain that flashed through his ear. Lana smiled.

"Could send him a finger," she said thoughtfully. Then a huge smile burst over her face. "Of course, I know! The perfect thing! Better than a silly old ear or finger. I'll send him something that he won't soon forget. Something he ought to recognize on sight." The smile died and a blank look claimed Lana's features. She moved the knife away from his ear, and motivated by the most intense terror he'd ever experienced, Roy began to fight for all he was worth.

He twisted away from her, and with hunger and thirst and pain forgotten, he aimed for her head and kicked out as hard as he could. The cuffs bit into his bleeding wrists, and he cried out from the pain, but he connected. Too hampered by the cuffs to reach her head, his feet connected with her shoulder and sent her sprawling. He'd hoped to make her drop the knife, but she kept control of it. Furious, she jumped to her feet.

"You fucking asshole! You kicked me! I'm going to make you pay for that!" Eyes blazing, she started for him, knife raised. They both froze at the sudden sound of voices coming through the front door of the house.

"Open up! Sheriff's Department!" and then the crash of the door being kicked open and rebounding against the wall.

Lana whirled around to face the figures suddenly looming in the doorway to the room. There were three of them and Roy figured he must finally be dead, because he could have sworn one of them was Johnny.

Johnny saw Lana's face clearly. She wore a look of confusion, panic and overriding it all, pure madness. She also wore a slight smile, as if pleased that the moment she'd long waited for had finally arrived.

"Watch out, she's got a knife!" one of the uniformed officers shouted, but even before the words were out of his mouth Lana was moving again and in the moment it took her to turn and raise the knife and start back into the room, Johnny saw a figure lying on the floor and knew immediately who it was.

"Roy!" he screamed, and then everything began to happen in slow motion. Larry Grant and the uniformed officer must have seen Roy too, because they fired simultaneously, the shots catching Lana between her shoulderblades. Johnny watched as large roses of blood appeared on Lana's white blouse. She staggered a few more steps, the knife incredibly still held high, propelled by her hatred, until her knees buckled and she dropped heavily, thudding onto the floor and lying in a pool of her rapidly spreading blood. Johnny didn't give her a second glance. He vaulted over her body and fell to his knees on the floor at Roy's side. As Larry and the cops swarmed over Lana's body, he lifted Roy's head and cradled it in his lap. "Easy," he said.

********************

They kept Roy at Rampart for four days, rehydrating him and treating his thankfully minor wounds. The most serious of them was the mild concussion he had from hitting his head on the car's doorframe.

Johnny refused to leave his side. Everyone, including Roy, pleaded with him to go home and rest, but he would have none of it. Kelly Brackett ordered a cot set up in Roy's room.

One by one Roy and Johnny's friends showed up to see Roy and thank whatever deities they believed in that he was alive and, considering what he'd been through, fairly well. On the second day Joanne brought the kids to see their father, and Johnny finally left Roy alone long enough for the recovering firefighter to hold his children and weep with the joy of holding them.

Finally they allowed him to go home, and Johnny joyfully helped him get ready for the trip. Dixie brought Johnny plastic bags to put Roy's things in, and Roy hugged her and joked that he looked like a failed suicide with his bandaged wrists.

When they got back to the apartment, Johnny insisted Roy go to bed. Roy protested, insisting he'd spent enough time there, but finally capitulated. He finally decided it wasn't worth upsetting Johnny.

Once Roy was comfortable, John sat beside him on the bed and squeezed his hand.

"Can I do anything for you?"

"Yes. Lie down with me."

Johnny grinned and immediately stretched out beside Roy on the bed, gathering him in his arms. The emotional upheaval of the last few days threatened to overwhelm him, and he choked back a sob.

"I'm so, so glad to have you back, Roy. I was so scared."

"Me too, Pally." Roy nuzzled Johnny's chest, working his way down to his nipple. He closed his teeth around it and worried it gently through the fabric of John's shirt.

"Arrgh. What are you doing, Roy?!"

"Don't be dense, Johnny. What does it feel like I'm doing?"

John gently pushed Roy's head away. "Roy, you're not ready for this."

"Who says? Let me be the judge of what I'm ready for, okay?" Roy pushed himself up on one elbow and looked down into Johnny's face. "I'm all right, Johnny. Really. The only thing bothering me now is you treating me like a piece of crystal that's going to break if you hold on too hard. I'm not going to break, John. You know me. I'm stronger than this."

"I know you are. I just didn't want to rush you."

"You're not." Roy grinned at him. "I'd say I'm doing a fair job of rushing you, though."

"You're sure you feel up to this?"

Roy just continued to gaze down at him, a smile quirking the corners of his mouth. When he realized what he'd said, Johnny burst out laughing and Roy joined him. Roy stopped the laughter by claiming Johnny's mouth almost roughly, and he smiled against his lover's parted lips when he felt strong hands come up to clutch at him. He felt Johnny stroking his chest, gently pinching his nipples before pulling away.

Roy started to protest, then realized Johnny had only broken contact in order to shed his clothes. Once naked, he came back, and Roy sighed in satisfaction, reveling in the skin to skin contact. He buried his nose in Johnny's tangled mop of thick hair and inhaled deeply. He smelled of that indefinable something that was just Johnny, clean and sharp and vaguely musky.

He rubbed his chest and legs against Johnny, thinking as they lay there nose to nose in the bed that there were definite advantages to having a lover almost the same height as yourself. There wasn't any area of Johnny's lanky body that he couldn't cover with his own. He moaned contentedly as Johnny fondled him, carding his fingers through the dense soft fur covering Roy's chest.

He alternately kissed Johnny and rubbed noses with him, rubbed his cheek against Johnny's, feeling the sparse scratchy growth of beard that Johnny hadn't bothered to shave while Roy was hospitalized. He stroked every part of Johnny that he could reach with his hands, reveling in the satiny warmth of the nearly hairless skin under his palms, intoxicated by the feel of fine textured skin over firm muscle.

Roy could see the results of his worship of his partner's body as John's pupils dilated until they overtook the warm amber irises. He smiled briefly before ducking his head to one of Johnny's tiny tawny nipples, peaked and begging for his attention.

Johnny gasped and arched his back, hissing the breath out from between clenched teeth. Roy could hear Johnny's harsh breathing and feel his strong hands pulling his head down, trying to force more of the little bud of flesh into Roy's mouth.

Roy reached up and caught both of Johnny's hands, holding them down, holding him down, and lowered his face to Johnny's groin. He closed his eyes and began licking at the bobbing, straining flesh. He slowly moved his mouth down the shaft, taking in more and more and more, until he could feel the blunt head of Johnny's cock against the back of his throat. He rolled his eyes up and took in the sight of Johnny lying back against the pillows, eyes squeezed closed, face set in an expression of nearly comical seriousness and smiled inwardly. Then he swallowed.

Johnny's eyes flew open and he cried out so loudly that Roy was startled. He broke free of Roy's grip and grabbed his head, bucking his hips, thrusting, once, twice and then Roy felt him convulse and he began to swallow frantically as Johnny poured himself down his throat.

Finally the pulsing fell away to a weak dribble but Roy remained at his station, kissing and nibbling and sucking gently at Johnny's softening cock until he finally pushed Roy away with a breathless, "Pleeeeeze, man, that's enough!"

Roy gave him one last nip and regretfully let go. He moved up Johnny's body until they once again lay hip to hip, face to face. Johnny's dark eyes were searching his face, darting from the healing cut on his cheek to the fading bruises around his eye to his faintly swollen lips. Roy was distressed when those eyes that he so loved clouded, then filled with tears. He took Johnny's face in his hands. "Hush. I'm all right. It's behind us."

"I love you, Roy. I'm sorry."

"You're sorry you love me?" Roy asked teasingly, but Johnny wasn't to be placated.

"I'm sorry I got you involved in this. I'm sorry you got hurt. I wish it had been me."

"Don't you ever say that, John. What happened was NOT your fault, do you hear me? You have no control over what some deranged person did. You blaming yourself for what happened to me makes no more sense than a woman blaming herself for being raped."

Johnny nodded, and bit his lip. Roy reached up to wipe away an errant tear and Johnny grabbed his hand and kissed the palm. "Now, I think we have some unfinished business, don't we?" He thrust forward, trapping Roy's weeping and rock hard cock between his own flat belly and Roy's.

Roy groaned, and pushed back. Then with one quick motion he rolled them over so that he lay on his back with Johnny straddling him. Johnny's eyes widened a bit at the unexpected movement, but he recovered quickly. He leaned forward, claiming Roy's mouth, reaching past him, reaching into the drawer of the small chest by the bed and fumbling around. Roy judged by the soft sound of triumph he made Johnny had found what he was looking for, and wasn't surprised when he gently broke the kiss.

He watched Johnny's face as he squeezed the colorless goo over his fingers and then reached behind himself, watched as a look of concentration owned Johnny's handsome features, watched as a deep flush slowly developed on his chest and spread upwards to cover his face, watched as sweat broke out and began to trickle down Johnny's lean cheeks.

He groaned helplessly, and Johnny opened his eyes and looked at him. "Easy," he said, and he was squeezing more goo onto his fingers and sweeping his hand up Roy's shaft, covering him with cool wetness. Then he raised up on his knees and reached behind himself again, this time to grasp Roy firmly and guide him to the entrance to his body. He took a deep breath and sank down onto Roy's erection, letting gravity and the weight of his own body guide him down until Roy was buried balls deep inside him.

Roy groaned and grabbed Johnny's hips, his body bowing nearly in half at the incredible sensations rushing through him. Then Johnny shifted, leaned back, adopted a particular off canted angle, and keened lowly and constantly as Roy's cock grazed his prostate.

Johnny's erection, which had faded a bit on penetration, came back with a vengeance, and Roy watched in fascination as it bobbled and tapped against Roy's belly. He quickly discovered that in Johnny's current position if he made shallow, restrained thrusts he could stimulate Johnny's prostate with each stroke. All too quickly Johnny's hand flew to his groin to grasp his cock, and after a few quick motions timed with Roy's strokes he was coming again, his seed spurting up into the air and splashing back down to spatter them both.

The constant spasming of Johnny's sphincter pulled Roy's orgasm from him, and he cried out loudly, holding Johnny's hips, pounding into him, feeling himself being milked dry, losing his heart and soul to his lover.

When he came to himself again Johnny was stretched out full length, lolling across his chest. His cock had softened and slipped from his partner's body, and Johnny's long legs were wrapped around his at the ankle, pinning him down. He was getting heavy, so Roy turned to his side, gently dislodging Johnny so that he slid off and they lay facing each other, glued together from mid chest to knee.

Roy thought he was asleep, and he was near sleep himself when he heard the soft drowsy voice in his ear. "I'm yours, Roy. All yours." Roy just smiled as they gave in to sleep together.

The End.


End file.
